


Ready to Feel

by JustFinster



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Illustrations, M/M, Repression, Temporary Character Death, Violence, Weirdness, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25168276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustFinster/pseuds/JustFinster
Summary: There are no monsters in Moominvalley. How about outside of it?On his seasonal trip back "home", Snufkin meets a strange creature, and now has to navigate the uncharted seas of his deepest emotions.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll & Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Don't Talk To Strangers

The forest was silent and sombre, as if waiting for something or someone while preparing to sleep. The sense of anticipation was hanging in the air, slithering on the occasional snow patches, balancing in the bare tree branches. The air was humid, thick and immobile, saturated with patient waiting - for the sun to rise again and warm up everything, and for the spring to unfold fully. These changes were as desirable as they could ever be, yet the nature never rushed. It knew the value of patience and time. 

He was walking down the familiar path. A mere two more days of solitude separated him from his destination – a place filled with action, conversations, laughter... love. He didn't rush. The traveler learned the skill of patience from the nature itself. Solitude almost never felt foreign or uncomfortable. It was a welcoming refuge, a way of living. And being alone in nature – what could ever compare with this peaceful grounding feeling?

At least, it was like this for many years. Snufkin used to travel wherever his feet would carry him, without much of a plan, dealing with anything and everything on the go. The last year, though, proved to be more challenging than ever. He realized that he became chained to this place. Or was it the place itself? Of course, not. Well, it was a beautiful valley, but the vagabond had seen so many even more remarkable landscapes in his life... He hated to admit that he developed a deep emotional attachment – to... others! Something new and relatively unknown for him. Last year, for the first time in his life, leaving the Valley felt like an ordeal. It took a few weeks to readjust to his normal way of living, and this internal struggle scared him. 

Now, on his way back, anticipation and apprehension filled his consciousness, and every train of thought ultimately lead to the same station. He was constantly returning to the image of Moomintroll running to greet him, with that charming silly smile on his face and excited sparkle in his eyes. Standing on the bridge, with his arms open wide and chest rising and falling after a strenuous run, Moomin looked like nothing could be more important for him than this seasonal meeting. This both delighted and disturbed Snufkin. How emotional is that Troll! 

He instantly chuckled to himself. Is being emotional contagious? Does it spread through gazing at the stars, or walking late at night together, or breathing the same air for months on end?

This time, his repetitive thought pattern was interrupted by a strange white shadow he noticed in the corner of his eye. It flashed quickly between branches and immediately disappeared, as if dissolved in the air. Snufkin blinked a few times and looked around. Nobody was there. An odd silence enveloped everything around, and he could only hear his own slightly accelerated breathing.

“Hello?” softly said the Mumrik, as the silence grew uncomfortable. No answer. 

Snufkin shrugged off the weird feeling, looked around and decided that this place was good enough for a campsite since it started to get late. He began his habitual evening ritual of arranging the space, and it didn't take long to make the small clearing his home for the night.  
Just when he was about to heat his humble diner, he heard a very strange distant noise. It seemed that someone was moaning or crying for help.  
With a mixed feeling of annoyance, concern and just a sliver of fear, Snufkin decided to find out what was going on. He carefully went in the direction of the noise. Someone was clearly struggling there, in the nearby bushes. 

“Hey, are you alright?” called the Mumrik.  
“Please, help!” 

The voice was strained, tired and squeaky.  
Snufkin stepped behind the bushes and, to his surprise, discovered a tiny old lady in rugged clothes. She was standing on all fours and frantically searching for something in the grass. 

“I fell and lost my glasses! Would you mind help me find them, young man?” said the old woman as she threw a quick unimpressed glance in the Mumrik's direction.  
“Sure,” said Snufkin and started to search as well. 

Very soon he found a pair of old cracked eyeglasses in the tall grass, and silently handed them to the lady.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, putting the glasses on her crooked nose, and smiled. It seemed like cracks in lenses didn't bother her at all. “Aren't you a kind young fellow? Well, I guess I will need to take some rest. It's getting really dark in here,” she said with a smirk, and continued: “Nice to meet you, I'm Llort.”  
“I'm Snufkin,” the vagabond tipped his hat.  
“I see you're a traveler! Do you mind if I sit by your fire for a while?” asked Llort with a smile.  
Snufkin cringed internally, but accepted. It would be awfully cruel to refuse, he thought.

They were sitting on the logs by the fire, drinking broth in silence. The old lady was making quite a lot of noise, blowing at her drink and sucking it in with delight. 

“Every year, I go to my daughter. She lives there, by the sea,” suddenly said Llort. “She is pretty and kind, but so forgetful. Every year she forgets me, and I must tell her who I am and gain her trust again,” she sighed.  
“This must be hard,” blurted out Snufkin, hoping that the story would end there. He had no desire to learn any more details about his guest's life, family or struggles.  
“Not nearly as hard as it is for you,” said the lady reflectively, and pierced him with her gaze from behind the cracked glasses.  
Snufkin's eyes widened with surprise as he murmured: “What?..”  
“Isn't it hard to drag this heavy burden all the time?” asked Llort, pointing out at the Mumrik with her long finger.  
“I don't drag any burden. In fact, I travel lightly, and quite like it,” retorted Snufkin, poking the burning logs with a stick. He felt an uncomfortable feeling growing inside, and started to wonder just for how long his guest is about to stay around.  
“It's not your stuff I'm referring to!” grinned the old woman with a laugh. “I'm talking about _this_ burden!” she placed her tiny right hand in the middle of her chest. 

Snufkin stared at the lady with a confused expression on his face, but opted not to dive into this conversation. No matter what she meant, he wasn't interested in hearing more of that, so he made an effort to ignore it all together, looking aside. 

His reaction didn't discourage Llort from explaining her point.  
“Oh, I know how it feels to be in this state - to doubt, to yearn, to wake up with a gasp... Living in a fantasy hoping that others wouldn't notice. Secretly enjoying tiny things one is not supposed to enjoy so much. Escaping from reality in the woods. And always, always going back to the source of your painful longing... How long can you torture yourself and others like that? Do you think you'll live forever?”

“Enough already of this gibberish!” said Snufkin bitterly, jumping to his feet. “I don't know what you are talking about!” 

“Oh yes, you do!” said Llort quickly, and before he had a chance to protest or go away, she stretched her arm in front of her, with hand forming a cup – as if she was holding something invisible on her palm.  
“Look at this! Just look!..”

Snufkin couldn't take his eyes from the lady's hand, hypnotized. There was a barely visible swirl of tiny sparkles, moving around as if they were dancing, reflecting the fire and gaining the speed with every circle. Moving faster and faster, they became as bright as tiny stars, swirling and merging together in their crazy dance.  
“I want you to feel deeply... feel what you're _missing_!” whispered Llort, and with an energetic movement, she threw the sparkling swirling mess at the vagabond, aiming directly at his chest. 

Not able to look elsewhere, Snufkin watched the energy ball approaching quickly and felt a strong blow when it hit him. For a split second, everything around him was lit with a bright light and filled with low vibration. Trees started to move in a slow and unusual way, as if willing to grab someone with their branches. He felt everything moving painfully slowly. He noticed a grin on the old lady's face and her piercing gaze as he realized that he's falling slowly and heavily on the ground.  
_“You'll feel it all...”_ whispered someone into his ear as he closed his eyes, sinking into a comforting silent black space. 

[](https://ibb.co/VDh4c57)

* * *

When he opened his eyes, it took a few seconds before he could see clearly again. Everything was wrapped in a fog and looked unfamiliar. He wasn't in the forest anymore, but where? 

“Hey, Snuff. Did you fall asleep just now? Or did you wake up?” asked Moomintroll softly. He was sitting beside and making a flower crown.  
“I don't know... Where are we?” asked Snufkin, trying to dispel his feeling of utmost confusion.  
“On a beach. Remember, we went for a walk, just you and me,” answered Moomin patiently, then added with concern: “Are you feeling alright?”  
He turned his head to Snufkin, and his ears twitched with slight nervousness.  
“I had the most unusual dream,” said the Mumrik as he moved slowly into a half-seated position, supporting his upper body with forearms, and looked around.  
He couldn't recognize this place.  
It was not their beach in the Valley. This place looked foreign. The fog cleared up, and Snufkin could see the shoreline extending for miles, and rocky mountains in the distance. The plants were scarce, and the beach was covered with small pebbles. There was no forest in sight, only rocks and occasional shrubs.  
“Here you go,” the Troll leaned closer and put his flower crown on Snufkin's hat. “You look... good,” he said with a sigh, and looked aside. 

“Moomintroll, something's the matter?”  
“I wish I could tell...”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, soaking in the sounds of nature. 

“If you can't tell it, maybe you can show it?” said Snufkin with a feeble smile.

Moomintroll looked at him, and the Mumrik noticed a fair amount of sadness in his blue eyes. He suddenly felt a strange sensation of almost drowning in their deep blue sorrow. He dove into Moomin's sadness with all of his senses – like never before. He wouldn't be able to describe it with words, but the sudden feeling of connection was real and frightening.

Guided by an unconscious desire to comfort his friend, Snufkin couldn't help but reach out and touch gently Moomintroll's cheek. The deep blue eyes stared at him with apprehension and longing. The sensation of the white fur under his fingertips was maddening-soft, and he quickly removed his hand as if the touch burned his fingers. Snufkin felt heat spreading all over his face, and pulled the brim of his hat to hide it. The sadness didn't let him go, it squeezed his heart.  
He closed his eyes, lied back on the pebbles, covered his eyes with the hat and took a deep breath. 

“If we don't do what we truly want, then what's the point?” he heard Moomin's slightly wobbly voice.  
“Well, in life we have to do all kinds of things, not only what we want,” answered Snufkin without changing position.  
“I wanna do nothing then!” childish rebellious notes came through. _He's precious._  
“Wouldn't it be boring to just sit and do nothing all day?”  
Moomintroll sighed.  
“If I'm with you, it's quite alright.”  
Slight tension in the air.  
“You are with me now, aren't you?”  
“No! You know it's just a dream since we aren't awake,” exclaimed Moomintroll.  
“How can we know it's a dream?”  
“Here's how.”

Moomin leaned to Snufkin and placed his paw on his chest. The Mumrik felt heat spreading from his paw as if he had fever. He held his breath unconsciously, waiting for his friend's next move. He didn't have to wait for long as Moomin lied next to him and gently put his head on his forearm, cuddling closer. The hot paw lifted and grabbed his hat, carefully placing it to the side. Snufkin opened his eyes and found himself caught in the depth of the blue once again. This time, the sadness was mixed with something else entirely. Running through his body, the sensation was almost unbearable – similar to a feeling of a leg falling asleep and pins and needles afterwards, but all over the place. He ached. 

[](https://ibb.co/zJKyFXv)

“Moomintroll...” whispered Snufkin with a sigh, “W-what is this?..” 

The other didn't say a word. Instead, he slowly brushed his fingers trough his friend's messy hair – without breaking the eye contact. This touch, the closeness of the Troll's body and the feeling of his head resting on his arm were sending jolts of energy down Snufkin's spine. He wanted to run away from these overwhelming sensations. At the same time, he wished to stay like this forever. 

“When it's a dream, you can relax and do whatever you please...if that's alright with you,” murmured Moomin softly, his breath brushing gently against Snufkin's ear. The Mumrik's head slowly nodded with a “yes” that seemed to bypass his consciousness completely.  
“Even this...” he continued, tilting his head at a particular angle before hesitantly pressing his lips against his friend's.  
Having too much on his plate to process, Snufkin couldn't help but close his eyes and allow this moment to consume his attention completely. It was a long, sensual, shy, and almost breathless kiss.

Suddenly, Moomintroll withdrew and jumped to his feet. He was standing with his both hands pressed to his chest, mischievous smile on his face. 

“Excuse me, I have to go now,” he said and waved a melancholic goodbye.  
“Wait!..”  
“I'm sorry, Snuff, it's time. We'll see each other soon again. A year passes quickly, you know... Cheerio!” and he dissolved in the air. 

“Moomin!”

The only thing he could hear was the dying echo of his voice desperately calling out to Moomin, and the distant rumble of waves on the shore. 

Snufkin got up quickly, stretching his arms in front of him as if he hoped to find his invisible friend where he was a moment ago. In vain. 

“Witch!” shouted the vagabond into the empty space. He picked up a stone and threw it into the nearest shrub. It landed in a pile of pebbles with a clunk. 

All of a sudden, a strong gust of wind snatched at his hair, swirling around with a howl. The landscape shattered and collapsed, dragging Snufkin into the blackness once again.

When the Mumrik opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the ground in the middle of the silent forest near his smoldering fire. There was no sign of the old woman. The vagabond sat on the ground. His head sank into his hands. He noticed a weird looking small cut on his left hand.

_Two more days of solitude. How awful..._

He bitterly admitted to himself that he has not been ready to feel it all.


	2. Don't Believe Everything You Think

“Moomintroll! Are you listening?” Little My's voice cut through the gentle white noise of the family breakfast like a knife through soft butter. Moominmamma and Moominpappa were not startled the least and continued with the breakfast: Pappa was lazily flipping through the pages of the newspaper while sipping his coffee, and Mamma was spreading jam on her toast. Apparently, they had become used to such exclamations and learned to ignore them routinely.  
“What?... Yes, I was listening. No need to shout like that,” muttered Moomintroll, clearly annoyed being dragged into the reality. With a sigh, he switched attention to the content of his plate again.  
“What are you daydreaming about all the time? I probably don't want to know, anyway!” scoffed Little My, rolling another pancake with jam and butter inside. “I said it's raining, mind you! Looks like our expedition is cancelled for today.”  
“I don't think so,” pondered Moomintroll, and then added, squinting at the girl: “You are free to stay home, of course!”  
“I most certainly will. Snorkmaiden will not show her snout out in such weather, neither will Sniff. What about Snufkin?”  
“Rain doesn't bother him at all,” said Moomin, slowly spreading some jam on top of a pancake with exaggerated care.  
“Of course it doesn't, silly me. He's whistling under your window rain or shine!”  
Moomintroll's fork fell on the floor with a clatter. Before reaching for it, he quickly glared at Little My in silence, his face subtly flushing. 

* * *

His thoughts were circling around their trip quite a lot recently. And now, with this very clear possibility of going there alone with Snufkin, the Troll has been finding himself in the midst of surprisingly unsettling emotions.  
On the one hand, he was certainly looking forward to this adventure since spending time with his best friend has always been the cherry on top of the summer cake. At the same time, thinking about their time together has started to make his heart skip a beat and his palms become sweaty. Failing to find a logical explanation to this phenomenon, Moomintroll's strategy was to wait it out. However, he wasn't very good at hiding his feelings, especially from Snufkin, who seemed to read his friend's facial expressions like an open book. He rarely spoke about his observations, but when he did, the Troll felt like that jewel dragonfly pinned under the glass in Pappa's study. See-through. He knew that his friend would always be extremely careful and respectful with whatever he could perceive. This knowledge, however, didn't make it much less uncomfortable.  
A recent memory popped up out of nowhere.  
They were sitting on the river bank, in the old oak's shadow. That day, Moomin felt angry – at least, that's what he thought. He wanted to vent.  
“I don't know, Snufkin. I can't stand it anymore!” By the end of this phrase, his voice shifted to energetic whisper, and his tail tuft randomly bounced on the grass a few times.  
“What is it?” calmly asked Snufkin.  
The Mumrik was laying with his hands behind his head, one leg over the other. Not a worry in the world.  
He turned his upper body to Moomin, his head resting on his bent arm. Their eyes met, and the Troll looked aside as if burnt by this gaze.  
“I think Snorkmaiden takes our relationship with her too seriously. She started to talk about that house again... our house,” Moomin rolled his eyes and sighed. “This drives me nuts!”  
Snufkin kept quiet for a moment, his glance sliding discretely from the Moomin's ears to his eyes and down to his snout.  
“You are tired, aren't you?” said Snufkin softly. “When one's tired, it's difficult to solve problems or make decisions.” Then he lied on his back again.  
So simple. Yet, Moomin suddenly realized that these past days he was feeling as if he was moving through the thick mud, and he hardly slept.  
“I guess you're right” he mumbled, stretching on the soft grass near his friend, mindful of keeping a reasonable gap between them.  
“Why don't we go explore the forest for a couple of days?” offered Snufkin with a warm smile.  
“Two of us?” quickly asked Moomin. Much too quickly. He suddenly felt a hot wave of pink spreading over his face, and turned his head away.  
“We can certainly invite Little My, Snorkmaiden and Sniff,” chuckled Snufkin. “Unless it rains.”  
Moomintroll looked back at Snufkin and firmly stated: “It might rain.”  
“Very possible.”  
“I'm pretty sure it will rain.”  
“It most probably will.” 

* * *

“According to the forecast, it'll be raining for the whole week,” said Moominpappa putting down his newspaper and inadvertently interrupting Moomin's ruminations.  
“What a bummer!” groaned Little My before stabbing her pancake with a fork.  
“They say a rainy day is a perfect opportunity to reflect upon and heal emotions,” mused Moominmamma. She got up from the table and started to gather empty dishes while humming a barely audible tune. “Don't forget your umbrella, dear.”  
“They must be pretty dumb to say such a thing about rain, Moominmamma. My emotions are getting much worse when it's drizzling all the time!” retorted Little My, focusing on fiercely cutting the last bit of her toast into tiny pieces. When she got satisfied with what she achieved on her plate, the girl turned to Moomin and mumbled: “Have a nice muddy healing trip for two, bro!”

* * *

Rain didn't bother Snufkin. He showed up under Moomintroll's window at an agreed time without delay and whistled their coded “time to go”.  
Moomintroll decided to take stairs this time and to go through the main door as he had a load of provision, a few other absolutely necessary things and an umbrella. They were going to travel for a few days, so he wanted to be prepared. He knew that Snufkin didn't care about so many absolutely essential things! The Mumrik clearly thought it was more exciting to deal with circumstances on the go.  
However, since Snufkin was a seasoned traveller, planning hasn't been a foreign concept to him, so he packed up his tent.  
The two of them walked all day, enjoying the landscape and each other's company. They could talk about everything and nothing, yet they were mostly walking in a comfortable silence, allowing themselves to soak up the nature with its myriads of sounds and sights and smells. Moomintroll slipped on a muddy path a few times, but managed not to fall. The fresh and humid air made his fur form funny strands.  
When it started to get late, they found a place where to spend the night. Moomin volunteered to find some dry wood, while Snufkin began to put up the tent.  
Finding dry wood proved to be a difficult task, so the Troll was searching high and low, advancing deeper into the forest...

As he was checking a big pile of old branches hidden under a blanket of old leaves, he noticed something white quickly and silently shifting in the peripheral field of his vision. Moomin's ears perked up and he turned his head to see what it was. An owl? Nothing around him was giving away any unusual presence.  
The Troll shook his head and sped up his search as the drizzle rustling on the old leaves started to intensify.  
Then he heard it. In the silence of the evening forest, somebody called his name. The voice was faint, yet real.  
He flinched and looked around one more time, paws curling into fists.  
“Hello? Anybody's here?” called Moomintroll in a quivering voice.  
Suddenly he caught a sight of a ghost-like creature slowly waving at him from the bushes. Moomin squinted his eyes trying to see it better, and made a few slow steps towards the bushes. The ghost immediately hid behind the branches.  
“Hey, wait! Who are you?”  
The white creature peeked from behind a large tree trunk, staring at Moomintroll with what could be described as curiosity. At least, the ghost seemed to be curious, but for Moomin it was difficult to gauge its emotion as he had no previous experience with such things.  
Then the creature disappeared again, with a soft chuckle, before dashing into the nearby bushes.  
“Don't be afraid! I'm a friend,” said Moomintroll softly.  
Trying to ignore the funny fluttering sensation sweeping through his stomach, he carefully followed the creature. The Troll slowly approached the bushes, bent its branches to the sides and, to his disappointment and relief, didn't find anyone there. For a split second, he felt a bit light-headed, everything spinning around and flashing with lights. He shook his head, and everything returned back to normal so fast that he didn't have a chance to pay attention to this fleeting experience.  
Something shiny on the grass caught his eye. When Moomintroll bent over to see it better, he realized that it was a tiny bracelet with an arrow made out of ruby. Following the arrow, Moomin's eyes slightly widened as he discovered a meandering path between the trees.  
“You dropped something...” he said in a slightly wobbly voice, and stepped onto the path.  
He moved forward slowly and carefully. The forest was silent, and Moomintroll could hear the sound of his footsteps a little bit too loudly for his liking. Despite a certain queasy feeling growing inside, he could not deny the strong desire to continue on that path. An irrational intuitive anticipation and curiosity led him forward.

After a few minutes of walk, he went around a large trunk of a dead tree and, to his surprise, noticed a tiny house at the end of the path. But there was something infinitely more surprising than just a house in the woods.  
Snufkin was standing on the porch and waving at him.  
“Moomintroll! Come over here! I've been waiting for you!”  
Leaning lazily on the veranda railing, he smiled cheerfully.  
“Waiting for me?..” asked Moomin, tilting his head quizzically.  
“Well, of course! Who else?”  
And Snufkin hurried Moomin to come closer with a vigorous hand gesture. 

“What is this place?” whispered Moomintroll when they both stepped inside. The unlocked door opened with a creak. When they entered, the Troll wrinkled his snout at the faint stale smell of an old abandoned place.  
The small house looked tidy and quite ordinary. The only unusual thing inside was a big old gramophone in the corner which dominated the tiny space completely. The old wooden table seemed ready to break any second under its weight. Just above the sound horn, Moomin noticed a clock on the wall. Its face didn't show any numbers at all, and its second hand was twitching rhythmically in a somewhat distressed manner, without moving forward.  
Moomintroll shuddered at the sudden loud sound of Snufkin's voice.  
“I know the owners, they're nice,” he said confidently, then added with a sly smile: “And they won't be back anytime soon. Care for some coffee?”  
“Sure,” answered Moomin absentmindedly while looking around, his eyes pulled to the dusty sound horn again. “Does this thing work?”  
“I bet it does. Why don't you check it out? They wouldn't mind,” said Snufkin with a smirk.  
Moomintroll knew a thing or two about these old machines. One day, his father had found one and brought it home. It took some effort to fix the old thing, but then they had a wonderful time dancing around to its old fashioned music. The Troll came closer to examine the gramophone, all the while glancing at Snufkin hustling in the kitchen corner. The thick cozy coffee scent spread in the room.  
“Look what I found! Almond cookies – your favorite! Let's have some,” cheerfully called Snufkin, putting two coffee mugs and a plate with goodies on the small corner table. 

As they sat at the table, Moomintroll joyfully rubbed his hands with anticipation realizing just how hungry he was. They were eating and drinking in silence for some time.  
“I saw something in the forest. Or someone. I think it was a ghost – all white and awfully shy,” said Moomin while sipping his coffee.  
“Mm. It's totally possible,” answered Snufkin in a reassuring and somewhat mundane tone, as if Moomin said he'd seen a rabbit or a squirrel. “I've met some white and shy creatures myself.”  
Warmth spreading over his face, Moomin felt drawn to contemplate the coffee grounds at the bottom of his mug.  
After a short pause, Snufkin continued: “The forest is quite mysterious. And everything around us is our mind's creation or interpretation anyway, so why not.”  
Moomin glanced at his friend to check whether he was mocking him, but the Mumrik looked serious and quite focused on his mug.  
A thought dawned upon Moomintroll. “Our feelings are also our mind's creations...” he said with a soft drawl.  
“Absolutely. More than anything else,” confirmed Snufkin before finishing his mug.  
“It sounds like some damn philosophical concept. How's this of use?” asked Moomin skeptically.  
“Very useful, actually. You can ignore your feelings, suffer from them, act upon them, and even enjoy them – the choice is always yours. One very wise fox once told me it was even possible to let them go, but it's a bit of a stretch, if you ask me.” He chuckled.  
“Nah, it doesn't work like this! It just doesn't!” said Moomintroll with a fervor, waving his paw in disbelief. He wasn't really sure where this conversation could lead. It felt odd to discuss emotions with Snufkin, and this whole subject seemed to pop up out of nowhere.  
“Feelings bothering you?” asked Snufkin kindly.  
“I guess so...”  
“You know your feelings are born from your thoughts, right?”  
“Suppose...”  
“You don't have to believe everything you think, do you?”

Moomin slowly scratched his ear and forgot to bring his paw back. It stayed on top of his head as if stuck.  
“Let me show you something,” said Snufkin with a smirk and lightly tapped his raised arm.  
He quickly stood up, approached the gramophone and turned it on. The Moomintroll's ears perked up with surprise.  
The small room was suddenly filled with the hissing sound of the needle moving along a dusty groove in search of a melody. And the melody followed.  
It was slow and lazy at first, gradually picking up rhythm, bouncing from the walls, inviting to dance. With a delight clearly written on his face, Snufkin was rhythmically tapping with his fingers on the counter top. Moomintroll couldn't move his gaze off of his smile – half-mischievous, half-shy, and always rather mysterious; a smile with a hint of sadness. It rarely, if ever, managed to reach the Mumrik's dark eyes. 

With a light bounce in his steps, he came closer to Moomin, elegantly took off his hat, bowed, and offered his hand, inviting his friend to join the rhythm: “Shall we?..”  
Moomintroll jumped off his chair, tail swaying a couple of times with apprehension: “Let's!”  
Hand in hand, they started to move together, trying to catch the rhythm. Moomin stepped on Snufkin's foot once, and they laughed. The initial awkwardness gradually dissipated, making place for unconditional joy of movement and laughter. And they were swirling, and jumping, coming closer and moving apart, until the tune died off, and the room became quiet again. 

[ ](https://ibb.co/8jW4h9J)

They both sat on the floor in silence – the type of comfortable silence they were perfectly used to.  
“Feeling better?” asked Snufkin softly, looking at Moomintroll from under the brim of his hat.  
“Yes!”  
Snufkin lit up his pipe, made a few slow puffs, then said philosophically: “Well, that was ignoring by distraction. It feels good, but not for long.”  
“Huh?” managed to utter Moomin as his ears twitched with surprise.  
The Mumrik chuckled at his friend's reaction, and continued: “When it comes to suffering, you know this part already. No use to dwell on that.”  
“Sometimes I think you spend too much time alone, Snufkin,” retorted Moomin with just a hint of mock irritation, and he smiled to soften his words. “You sound like you're talking to yourself. Am I supposed to understand what you're saying?”  
Snufkin smiled dreamily, gazing at Moomintroll. “Don't try to fool me, you're easy to read. Your ears just told me. You get it.”  
The other furrowed his brow in surprise, his paw reached for his ears unconsciously. “So, what's acting upon, then?” asked he playfully, and his tail tuft bounced a few times on the floor. He started to feel riled up by this uncanny dialogue.

“Acting's simply doing,” said Snufkin as he methodically put the pipe to the side, moved closer to Moomin and put his hand on top of the Troll's paw.  
After several long seconds, Moomintroll noticed that he forgot to breathe, so he took a deep breath and let it out with a barely audible sigh. Their eyes met, and Moomin noticed a sinking feeling that slid down his throat to the heart, and from there further into his abdomen. Looking into the chestnut abyss of Snufkin's eyes, he felt exposed and not belonging to himself. There was an unspoken question in those dark eyes, and Snufkin seemed to be patiently waiting for the Troll's answer.  
“You see, true enjoyment happens through action,” said Snufkin slowly, each word filling up the whole room before dissolving into silence. “Unless, of course, you prefer to enjoy your fantasies forever. May I?”  
Moomin slowly nodded, totally unaware of what he was giving his permission to.  
Snufkin stretched his arm and touched the Moomin's ear, letting his fingers glide on the soft silky fur down to his cheek and then to his shoulder, lingering there for a few moments. The Mumrik smiled as a barely noticeable shiver rippled through his friend's body. “What do you really want?”  
Unable to keep up with overwhelming feelings, Moomintroll closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Now, with his eyes shut, he at least didn't have to feel so weirdly inebriated by that eye contact. His skin burned under the Snufkin's hand slowly gliding around his shoulder to his upper back. Was it the moment he longed for and dreaded so much? How could he ever put all this into words? 

“I want to travel with you, see the faraway lands, be free together and never let you go!” he blurted out, willing to break free from this tormenting uncertainty as quickly as possible.  
He couldn't recognize the sound of his own voice. Fear and regret crept into his heart instantaneously and squeezed it painfully. He shouldn't have said this! Apart from being contradictory and plain stupid, this was a surefire recipe to push the freedom-obsessed Mumrik away, he knew it!  
Moomintroll opened his eyes, and through the tears starting to cloud his vision he noticed, with relief, that Snufkin didn't withdraw from him.  
“Now, see? You don't have to believe what you just thought. You really don't! Because it might as well be wrong.”

Snufkin wiped a lonely tear that trickled down his friend's cheek, and opened his arms inviting Moomin to come closer. The latter accepted this invitation without much ruminating. The Troll simply allowed himself to melt into this hug and let go of thoughts, soaking in every odd sensation he could attend to from this position: the ragged surface of Snufkin's clothes, the rising and falling of his chest, the weight of his arms on his back, the smell of tobacco and fire, the slight tickling of fingers affectionately brushing through his fur.  
Snufkin's voice sounded so comforting in the hushed room: “One day we can do just that.”  
Moomin smiled and closed his eyes. With this unexpected promise of hope, he suddenly felt so light, strong and free. The Troll tried to keep completely still so as not to scare away this cozy moment that appeared to be just perfect.  
Not for long, though. 

All of a sudden, he felt a sharp pain in his right paw. With a gasp, Moomintroll opened his eyes – he could see absolutely nothing around! Only dense and terrifying pitch black darkness. He made a jerky movement, struggling to understand what could have happened. To his surprise, he found himself completely immobilized and unable to move.  
He heard someone saying in a squeaky disappointed voice: “Damn it, now he's too afraid. It's no good anymore! Anyway, I hope that'll do it.”  
“Who is there? Snufkin!..” cried Moomintroll, and the sound of his voice came out distorted and completely foreign.  
Instead of the answer, he felt a strong wind gust, and in a matter of seconds the darkness was blown away. He found himself in the forest, lying on the ground in an uncomfortable position and shivering under the rain. Moomin sat up heavily, brushed off a few dirty leaves stuck to his belly and legs, and looked at his right paw. His brows went up as he noticed a small fresh cut of a peculiar shape, and a few blood stains on his white fur. Instead of the bracelet, he was holding a small dry stick in his paw. Some dry wood, eh?

“Snufkin!” called Moomintroll, the silence being unbearable.  
Feeling a slight shaking in his knees, he got up from the ground and began to hobble back.  
A few minutes later, he noticed a movement behind the trees.  
“Snufkin?” He stopped and stood there for a few seconds, leaning on a large tree trunk. Shouting and walking at the same time required too much of an effort right now. 

Then, to his enormous relief, he heard the familiar voice: “Moomintroll! Are you there?”  
Moving the branches of the thick bushes to the side, Snufkin came out to the small clearing. He noticed his friend and hurried towards him. “Moomintroll, where have you been? You gave me quite a scare!”  
“I bet I was scared more than you!” said Moomin with a feeble smile. “Are you real?”  
With these words, the Troll stretched his arm and grabbed his friend's shoulder, tapping a few times here and there. If it were a hallucination, it was a pretty realistic one.  
“Of course I am!” chuckled Snufkin. “Now, what happened? I didn't know you could ever get so pale!”  
“I was walking through the forest, gathering wood, and I saw a creature – much like a ghost. I followed it, and then there were you in that house. So real! And after that... Look!”  
Moomintroll turned his paw to the light, and showed Snufkin his bruise. “I don't remember cutting myself. Maybe it happened when I fell.”  
Snufkin's eyes widened in shock when he saw the cut. It was impossible not to recognize its shape. He nervously pulled the brim of his hat with a quick movement and asked:  
“So... W-what did “we” do there... in that house?..”  
“Honestly? We were having a darn good time!” Moomin burst out laughing. He noticed how Snufkin's face subtly blushed, found this hilarious for some reason, and laughed even harder, almost hysterically. His whole body was shaking, tail swaying back and forth, and he pressed his paw to a tree trunk to keep balance. “I mean, before everything around became a black hole! A wretched black hole!”  
Snufkin crossed his arms, apparently waiting it out. But very soon his eyes narrowed, he grabbed Moomin's shoulders and shook him a few times.  
“I think something's going on in this forest. Moomintroll, listen to me already! I'll show you something!”  
Snufkin rolled up his sleeve and unceremoniously placed his hand in front of Moomin's eyes. The mark on his own arm, on the inside of the wrist, had the same cross-like shape, although it mostly healed and therefore looked a bit different. 

Moomintroll froze and stared at Snufkin's hand with an unreadable expression.  
“Did this... happen to you, too? When?! Did you see anything? Why didn't you tell me?” Shooting questions one after another, Moomin couldn't manage to make any pauses between them.  
“On my way to the Valley, a couple of weeks ago...”  
“What did you see then?”  
“I saw a weird person... She looked like a witch or something. Then I saw you.”  
“A-a-a-and?” asked Moomintroll expectantly.  
“Nothing!” said Snufkin abruptly. “It was like a nightmare, but a very real one.”  
“My dream was rather nice! Before the scary darkness, that is. So what do we do now?”  
“I guess we should go to sleep, it's getting late. Let's think about it tomorrow.”  
“What if the witch gets us in our sleep?” said Moomin half-jokingly, bending his fingers like claws and pretending to menace Snufkin.  
“We'll fight,” answered the Mumrik seriously, making clear that he didn't think these events were funny in any way. “I think we might have to return to the Valley tomorrow.”  
“What?! You can't be serious! We just left!” groaned Moomin. “Why are you so afraid?”  
“Somebody's targeting us, and we don't know anything about them,” said Snufkin bitterly. “I need to find out what's happening. But before that, we have to get you back home safe.”  
“Snufkin, I'm not a child, you know! I can stand for myself,” grumbled Moomin. “Don't tell me you want to go and find out on your own? Can't you see? This is exactly what they want – separate us! Shouldn't we be together?”  
“Let's go to sleep. Together. We'll decide tomorrow,” said Snufkin with a tired smile.

As they got back to their tent, it was still raining.  
Moomintroll gulped his cold dinner quite enthusiastically. This unnerving adventure gave him a hearty appetite. As for Snufkin, he barely touched his food.  
It was already late when they finally tucked themselves in their blankets and settled down for the night.  
“Snufkin?” whispered Moomintroll in the silence that was only mildly disturbed by the gentle patter of raindrops on the tent fabric.  
“Mm?”  
“In your dream... I mean, that nightmare... What did I do?”  
“Moomin, I'm sleeping.”  
“Ok, ok. Sorry. May I tell you about mine?”  
“Better not.”  
Sigh.  
“Snufkin, is it true we don't have to believe everything we think?”  
“Fair enough. Now sleep.”

* * *

Somewhere in the deepest depths of the forest, the little witch was wide awake. She was frantically pacing back and forth in her dark little room, pondering a very important and urgent question.  
“I don't understand,” she muttered to herself. “Longing, sadness, passion, joy, trust, hope, fear... what else?”  
On her table there were several bulbs, burettes and flasks with liquids of various colors, and a huge toad sitting in the corner. One could think it was a chemistry laboratory. As a modern witch, she respected the science of witchcraft with all of her heart.  
She took a small bottle out of her pocket, and carefully observed its content against the moon light seeping from the window. Then she put a few drops of its contents in a flask, and added a few other ingredients, obtaining yet another disappointing result, or, to be more precise, - no result at all. Nothing happened.  
“Something is still missing!”  
The witch jumped to her dusty bookshelf, took out a huge volume and dragged it to the table. She started to flip through the pages still muttering something incomprehensible.  
“Yes! Here it is!” shouted she suddenly, her long sharp claw pointing at a yellow page filled with dense font.“Sacrifice! How could I forget?”  
With an abrupt movement, she smashed the book close, sending thousands of dust particles into the air.  
“I'm sorry, guys. It seems we're not done yet,” she said into the empty space. “Argh, why does this have to be so much work?..”  
She heavily sank into her squid-shaped chair in the corner, closed her eyes and took a deep breath before murmuring to herself.  
“Then it better be fun.” 

[ ](https://ibb.co/ZmXMvjx)

* * *

It was one of those rainy spring mornings that start very slowly, and are difficult to distinguish from nights. They are gloomy, wet and quiet. The life is dormant and hidden away. 

The first thing Moomintroll became aware of was the rhythmical raindrop sound, as if someone's fingers were gently tapping on the fabric of the tent. He made a deep inhale sucking in the cool and humid air, and slowly opened his eyes. They widened right away, and his ears perked up involuntarily. What he saw in front of his face was anything but ordinary – there was a huge toad sitting right on top of his blanket. Its greyish skin was covered with warts, and its expressionless yellow eyes were fixed on Moomin's face. The toad slowly lifted its paw and scratched the corner of its mouth, then placed the paw back.  
Watching it slowly floating up and down in front of his snout with the rhythm of his breath, he suddenly realized how heavy it was. Moomintroll quickly prompted himself to a seated position, pressing his paws to the ground behind him. The toad lazily slid from the top of his belly to the ground. This change of position couldn't bother it less as it continued to sit there, staring into the space in front of it. 

“Snufkin!” whispered Moomintroll. He turned his head to his friend who was still fast asleep. The Mumrik looked so peaceful in his sleep. His disheveled hair fell onto his front, and Moomin felt a sudden urge to reach for his face and run fingers through his messy lovely locks. He still felt a little bit jarred by the yesterday's event. Apart from the nervousness of that unusual surreal encounter, he also felt something else. Moomintroll couldn't really find the word for the persistent gnawing feeling inside. It was close to what he was going through every fall: each hibernation was like a little death, each winter was bringing about grief. His seasonal mourning felt like a load of lead tied to his feet - heavy, uncomfortable.  
If only that dream had happened for real! Moomin didn't want to even bother to label his emotions or define his affection toward Snufkin, but he knew that he would do an awful lot for that vague promise to materialize. Deep inside, he longed to break away from traditional seasonal dying. From traditions in general, for that matter! Who's to say how the life is supposed to be lived, anyway? Yet, a sad voice inside kept telling him it was an empty hope, and this hurt right in the middle of his chest. 

“Am I suppose to ignore this feeling, act upon it, enjoy it or suffer from it?” thought Moomintroll with a bitter smile. He couldn't help but acknowledge that he was quite good at suffering, indeed. “Should I stop believing what I'm thinking right now?”  
With a sigh, he looked aside, unable to bear to gaze at Snufkin's face any longer, or to be so close to him in this tiny space. Feeling suffocating, Moomin stepped out of the tent. 

It was gloomy and humid outside. The trees were standing around, motionless, with their branches wide spread. Tiny raindrops were landing softly on Moomintroll's fur, barely wetting it. 

“Hello, Moomin boy,” called somebody from the left. The Troll's ears perked up and his head turned to the sound of the voice. The sound was coming from the tree. Moomin squinted his eyes to see better whomever that voice could belong to. He saw a small peculiar woman wrapped in black shapeless clothes. She was sitting on the lower branch of a tree and dangling her legs in the air. “Haven't you seen Jasmine, by any chance?”  
“Hi. Who's Jasmine?” responded Moomin politely. And who the heck are you?  
“Jasmine's my pet. She's lost here somewhere,” the woman smiled from underneath her crooked long nose. “You like pets, don't you? Putting them on a leash and all that?”  
“I like animals. Do we know each other?”  
“Not yet! But we'll have a chance to get acquainted! I'm Llort.”  
Not sure I really want to, flashed in Moomintroll's mind.  
The woman leaned forward and chuckled.  
“Pets are great! They are loyal, obedient and always stay close. Isn't it fun?” Llort laughed some more, as if she remembered a great joke. “Well, unless it's a cat, you know! These folks are unreliable. Some friends are like that, too, aren't they? Just like cats!”  
Llort took out a tiny cloth and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Or was it a raindrop? Anyway, she kept dangling her feet joyfully.

Confusion written on his face, Moomin was considering how to gracefully end this strange conversation when he heard Snufkin coming out of the tent. The latter made a few steps and froze, looking at the woman.

“Oh, hey, Snufkin! Long time no see,” Llort smiled broadly, showing her small sharp teeth.  
Snufkin firmly stepped forward to position himself between the witch and Moomin.  
“What do you want, Llort?” His voice was quiet, but firm.  
Realization suddenly dawned upon Moomintroll. He frowned and made a decisive step forward, but Snufkin stretched out his arm, showing him to stay where he was. The Mumrik turned his head to him and softly said: “Don't worry, Moomin, it'll be alright.”  
“What? I was just looking for my pet.” Llort leaned her head to the side, and looking at Snufkin with what could be considered a playful smile, added: “Slept well? No more nightmares, I hope?”  
“Miss Llort, could you tell us how your pet looks like? And we'll help you find her,” offered Moomintroll carefully, glancing, in turns, at the witch and at Snufkin.  
“Oh, isn't he sweet?” said Llort to the Mumrik with a smirk, and with a brisk movement, jumped off the branch to the ground. She landed rather gracefully in the wet moss and threw her long braid behind her back. “Snufkin, why don't you learn some good manners from your dear friend?” Then she brushed off a few leaves from her shoulder, and added cheerfully: “Here she is! Jasmine, come over here!”  
With a smile, she pointed with her long finger at the tent entrance. Moomin's eyes followed her gesture, while Snufkin kept staring at the witch testily. 

A huge toad slowly walked out of the tent and approached its owner. Llort took the amphibian off the ground and pressed it to her chest with exaggerated affection. This left the toad rather emotionless.  
“Great. Now you're good to go?” asked Snufkin, adjusting his hat.  
“Not quite. You know me - I like to make the most out of situations!” laughed the witch. She carefully placed the toad on the ground and vigorously rubbed her hands.

Snufkin made a tiny step back, placing himself in front of Moomintroll once again, and crossed his arms. Moomin's tail swayed nervously a few times.  
“It's a long way home, and I have a hefty load to carry,” said Llort, then smiled, looking at the toad: “Yes, I'm sorry, Jasmine, but it's true - you are heavy, and a slow walker, too!”  
“Resourceful as you are, you'll find a way to get home easily, I'm sure,” uttered Snufkin.  
“Thank you for the compliment. See? You're learning quickly!”  
Llort placed her fist under the chin and added reflectively: “You know, I like your idea! I can use what I've got, and with your help my way home will be easy!”  
She stretched her arm and rounded her hand as if she was holding a ball. One by one, tiny sparkles started to form and swirl in her hand.  
“Moomintroll, run! Now!” firmly said Snufkin, stepping forward.  
“No way!” protested the Troll. “I'm not afraid of her, and I won't leave you!” He stepped forward, straightened his spine and crossed his arms, too.  
“Moomin, please! It's no use. Go find help!”  
“Go yourself!” 

“You two are splendid!” laughed Llort. “I think I'll take the Moomin boy, he looks more robust for the task. And soft, too! Isn't he soft, Snufkin?”  
Without moving his eyes from Llort, the Mumrik quickly picked up a heavy stone from the ground and with a groan threw it at the witch aiming at her outstretched hand. She jumped to the side unexpectedly fast while still holding the growing swirling mass in her hand, and furrowed her brows: “Now, that wasn't polite... nor wise!” 

Having said that, she hurled the energy ball in Snufkin's direction. The latter dashed to the side just in time to avoid being hit in the chest. The ball, however, smashed into his leg. This made him stumble and fall on his stomach. He prompted himself to a seated position, trying to get up - to no avail, and he grabbed his leg with both arms, bewildered. 

“Snufkin, what's that?” breathed Moomin, landing on his knees just beside his friend and placing his paws on his leg.  
“My leg... I can't move it.”  
Llort made a few slow steps in their direction.  
Moomin turned his head to the witch and angrily shouted: “Leave him alone!” His tail weaved itself around Snufkin's leg.  
“I will! If you come with me, Moomin boy,” said the witch. “Or rather, if you carry me home!”  
“What?” hissed Snufkin, piercing Llort with his gaze.  
“What - what? It won't be too hard for him, c'mon! He's a strong fella.”  
“Moomintroll, don't even think! Run and get help. She can't really hurt me,” fiercely whispered Snufkin into Moomin's ear.  
“Nonsense! I sure can!” menaced the witch. She snapped her fingers, and Snufkin gasped with a grimace of pain, holding onto his knee and folding forward. His body started to shake with each heavy breath.  
“Stop it! I'll go with you,” cried Moomintrol. He jumped up and stepped forward.  
“Give me your hand, quickly!” suddenly ordered Llort as she took out a strange device from her pocket. It looked like a small weird pistol wrapped in plastic.  
“Moomin, don't” said Snufkin through clenched teeth.

Ears flat on his head and tail lifeless on the ground, Moomin stretched out his arm. The witch grabbed his wrist and quickly pressed the device to the inside of his forearm. The Troll closed his eyes and uttered a yelp when he felt a sharp short-lived pain in his arm.  
“There, there. Just a mosquito bite!” smiled Llort. She squinted one eye while checking the device against the light, then muttered: “Not sure it's enough though...” Then she put it back in her pocket. 

Moomintroll rushed to Snufkin, flopped down beside him and carefully took his hand in his paws.  
“Are you alright?” he asked.  
“Just fine,” quietly answered Snufkin, placing his other hand on top of the other's paws. Their eyes met, and the fur on the Troll's spine bristled when he noticed a barely visible smile on Snufkin's face. His hand slid onto Moomin's forearm and gently turned it, exposing a couple of red stains on the white fur. “How about yourself?” whispered the Mumrik, his fingers sliding back to Moomin's paw and tapping it slightly a few times. “Don't worry, Moomintroll, I'll come and get you.”  
Moomin silently nodded and smiled back. By that time, Snufkin's smile disappeared, and he turned his heavy gaze to Llort. 

“This is all sweet, but it's time to go, Moomin!” called the witch. She raised her hand and crooked her index finger moving it in a “come here” motion.  
“What about Snufkin? He can't get up!” Moomin's voice came out more whiny than he intended for it to be.  
“Of course he can't, that's the whole point,” chuckled the witch. “He'll be ok – in a couple of hours. Now move!”

Moomintroll raised heavily to his feet and approached the witch, his tail dragging behind him. He turned his head to Snufkin who was squirming on the ground, trying to find a way to change his position. The feeling of helplessness and pity squeezed Moomin's heart. It was unbearable to see his friend in this state, to leave him like this. But the Troll wouldn't dare to try anything after he'd witnessed the wicked witchcraft this creature was capable of. 

“I'm coming after you, Moomin!” repeated Snufkin firmly and calmly. 

Llort tapped Moomin's shoulder and showed him to bend over, then she agilely climbed on his back and found just the right spot at the base of his neck. Moomin straightened up his spine, and the witch grabbed his ears to hold onto. “How comfy!” she grinned. “Oh, don't forget Jasmine!”  
“Would you mind not pulling at my ears?” blurted Moomintroll. He picked up the darn toad from the ground. The amphibian didn't resist, it just gazed at him with its round eyes devoid of any expression. Apparently, nothing could ever disturb Jasmine, and she didn't care whether she was on the ground, on Moomin's blanket or in his or someone else's hands.  
“Good! Now, go this way!” showed Llort, pointing at the path between the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to say whatever your soul desires! XD  
> All the best.


	3. And if dreams can come true, what does that say about nightmares?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More weird dreams to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reference to the death of a major character (although in a nightmare setting), so please beware.

Moomintroll was stomping angrily along the forest path. The air was humid, and the burden he carried felt as a heavy stone on his shoulders. The Troll just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.  
They continued like that for some time before the witch broke the silence. 

“Look at all those new leaves. Spring is nice, isn't it?” she said in a melodic voice, almost singing the last sentence. After a few minutes, Llort took a deep breath and added with a sigh: “And, you know, I believe this spring will be great, I feel it. Just look at Jasmine – her warts are all shiny and smooth. Beautiful sign!”  
“Are we there yet?” blurted out Moomintroll. His back rounded, and his feet seemed to stick to the ground with each step.  
“So, did you like that dream?” asked Llort nonchalantly while slightly pulling Moomin's ears up. The Troll cringed and shook his head, heavy gaze fixed on the path. “I know you did!” giggled the witch. “I bet you'd give a lot for Snufkin to be so considerate as you made him to be in your...”  
“Listen, Snufkin is fine as he is...” interrupted Moomintroll.  
“Is he?” cut his sentence Llort. “Your dream tells me a different story!”  
“How can you appear like that and... intrude?” sighed Moomintroll heavily. “What you do to people is awful. You should stop!” His voice picked up volume by the end of his short outburst.  
“I'll tell you a secret, Moomin!” whispered the witch into the Troll's ear. “I didn't design that dream of yours – it's entirely _your_ work. I don't do anything to people, they do it themselves!”  
“What do you mean – themselves? Snufkin and I, we're both...”  
“... fools!” inserted Llort with a screeching laughter. Before he could protest, she quickly continued: “You both don't see the forest for the trees. You're both so involved with your petty self-absorbed thinking that you overlook each other completely.”  
Brows furrowed, Moomin was seriously considering whether it was a good idea to grab her little body and throw it to the ground. But he quickly decided against it, being afraid to take that kind of risk. Who knows what else she might have in her sleeve? Better get if over with as soon as possible...  
With a heavy sigh, the Troll accelerated his pace.  
“I used to have a friend like you,” continued the witch in a sweet voice, “A long time ago. He was clingy as a burdock!” Llort started to laugh hysterically, her crooked fingers squeezing the Troll's ears quite painfully. “I liked him a lot, but we ended up parting our ways, because, you know, pushing too hard makes people resist even harder.”  
“Why do you do... all this?” asked Moomintroll bitterly.  
“Do you want to rest a bit? I'll tell you,” Llort pointed at several large logs covered with moss right at the fork in the road. “Sit there for a moment.”

Feeling quite exhausted, mostly from uncomfortable emotions rather than actual physical strain, Moomin obliged. He sat on the log, and the witch slid off his back and found a place just in front of the Troll. She took her toad and placed it on her lap. Moomin was slouching and pressing his hands to the log for support while looking at Llort expectantly. The forest went silent. It was that strange type of silence that only happens when it rains lightly, and Moomin suddenly realized just how wet his fur became from all that drizzle.  
Llort's hand mindlessly caressed Jasmine, and the witch's lips formed a strangely gentle smile before she started to talk.  
“I have someone who's very dear to me. But she doesn't remember anything. Each year, I have to remind her that I exist, and it's very hard...” Llort took out a tissue and blew her nose.  
“I'm sorry to hear that. Can't you... cast a spell or something?” carefully asked Moomin. After what he's seen so far, he was sure this should be a piece of cake for someone like Llort.  
“No, impossible. See, no one can cast a spell for love! It's random, unpredictable, and messy. Unscientific!” She crackled with a nervous giggle.  
“So... What does this have to do with... us?” Moomin felt strangely self-conscious referring to him and Snufkin as “them”. He wagged his head slowly from side to side to clear his thinking.

Suddenly, Llort jumped to her feet energetically. Jasmine fell into the moss, however looked pretty content with this new arrangement.  
The witch pointed her finger at Moomin's snout and exclaimed: “You have what I need, that's what!” Then, she squeezed her hand in a tight fist, shook it in the air and added: “But boy, you're difficult!”

Moomin got up with a start, brows furrowed. His feet sank into a muddy puddle, but he couldn't care less. He suddenly thought that what she was doing was so unfair, so cruel, and no amount of sad stories could make up for her deeds.  
But before he could say a word, Llort brought her finger to her lips and firmly grabbed Moomin's arm with her other hand. Then, she pressed her hand to Moomin's chest and shouted: “Go _rehearse_!”  
Moomin stumbled, heavy eyelids covered his eyes, and he began to sink – deeper and deeper, as if falling through the ground. Images were flashing before his eyes, accompanied by some muffled incomprehensible cacophony of sounds. Spring flowers, birds, smiles, and tears, and snow, – all dancing around in a devilish kaleidoscope. 

When the spinning and swirling slowed down, and he managed to open his eyes, he saw Snufkin holding his hand pressed to his chest, worry written on his face.  
“Moomin, are you ok?” His voice strangely echoed in his ears. The way he said it made it clear that it wasn't the first time he asked this question.  
The Troll realized he was laying on the ground, so he sat up heavily and rubbed his eyes. Snufkin's hand slipped from his chest, making him conscious of a warm sensation on the spot where it rested a moment ago. 

Trying to make sense of the situation, Moomin looked around. He couldn't recognize the environment. It certainly wasn't Moominvalley. He was sitting on the bare ground with sparse grass and not a single tree in sight. This place looked like a desert: unwelcoming, harsh, stripped of vegetation, covered with random pebbles and sand here and there. 

“I'm fine,” Moomin's voice came out hoarse. He rubbed his eyes again, refusing to believe he was having yet another hallucination! Snufkin looked so real sitting nearby with his hands on the ground for support and his gaze fixed on Moomin. Apparently, he was waiting for Moomintroll to come to his senses.  
“Snufkin... What if...” he stopped and scratched his right ear, considering a wild idea he's got. If this was another fake reality, what could prevent him from telling whatever he wanted and see what happens? It's just another dream, after all!  
“Yes? What is it?” asked the Mumrik calmly, looking at his friend with a patient expectation.  
“I really hate toads!” proclaimed Moomin passionately, and then quickly whispered: “And love... someone.” 

Despite the fact that he knew this wasn't really happening, he felt incredibly flustered and ready to fall underground and disappear. Heat spreading over his face, he decided to distract himself from his heavy heartbeat and even heavier swarm of thoughts by closely examining a nearby rock. 

Snufkin's lips formed a barely visible smile before he slowly changed his position on the ground, turning to the side. Now, he was sitting by the Troll' side, looking into the distance.  
“So, what's about _them_?” he asked warmly.  
“About toads?” mumbled Moomin.  
The Mumrik mischievously looked at Moomin from under the brim of his hat and suddenly laughed so lightheartedly that the Troll's fur bristled on his back and his heart accelerated even more. Moomin couldn't help but start to nervously giggle himself.  
“To hell with toads!” shouted Moomin, laughing even harder and trying to remind himself that this was not real. How could he feel so delighted, flustered and angry - all at the same moment? How could this fake Snufkin look so lovely and give him such a hard time? He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and blurted out: “I don't want to talk about toads.”

When he opened his eyes, the Mumrik was gazing into the distance again. His face was relaxed, and Moomin knew one thing about his friend: he could sit like this for hours without saying a single word.  
“What is this place, anyway?” asked Moomin looking around. Little did he care about the answer, but breaking the silence felt urgent. He casually sneaked his paw closer to Snufkin and touched the green fabric of his clothes as if he didn't quite believe he would be able to feel its surface. But the familiar rough sensation was there! As real as it could be.  
“It's not that important,” answered Snufkin.  
“What is important, then?”  
Slowly, the Mumrik turned his head to Moomin and uttered solemnly:  
“Whatever you feel is important.”

Feeling strangely paralyzed by the ambiguity of this phrase, Moomintroll sighed and picked up a smooth marble stone in hope to reconnect with “reality”.  
“But it's not real, is it?” mumbled he, carefully examining the stone.  
“And how do you know what is real and what's not?” asked Snufkin with a barely visible smile, and placed his hand on top of the other Moomin's paw causing the Troll to shiver with surprise, then to freeze. Snufkin's hand was warm and soft, but the touch itself felt strangely burning. Too inviting, too enveloping...

Moomintroll cringed, threw the stone away, freed his other paw and quickly got up, this foggy conversation and ambiguous contact becoming unbearable. Why should he play the witch's game, anyway? The anger and frustration started to flood all his feelings, and he made a step towards Snufkin, looming above him and knowingly creating an exaggerated menacing closeness. The Mumrik gazed at him with curiosity, almost teasingly, and didn't move an inch. A thought flashed in Moomin's mind: he had no time to waste! The real Snufkin needed his help. 

“Now, tell me, how do I get out...” started the Troll decisively while grabbing the dream Mumrik by the collar of his coat quite unceremoniously so that his hat fell to the ground. Then his voice cracked. Moomin expected some form of resistance, but there was none. A strange wave of weakness reached his knees as he found himself drowning in those teasing brown eyes. The imposter Snufkin had the same face, the same body frame, the same voice, and this whole situation felt overly confusing, surreal and torturous. Without his hat, he looked so vulnerable! Moomin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, refusing to give in or let go. 

“Moomin, please...” he heard the whisper, “you're hurting me.” Every word stabbed his heart deeply.  
“How do I get _out_?!” shouted the Troll with his eyes still closed. Tears started to roll down his face when he painfully landed on his knees and let his paw release Snufkin. 

He covered his eyes with his paws in a futile attempt to stop the tears, when he heard Snufkin say calmly:  
“I'm afraid there is no easy way out, Moomin.”  
Snufkin picked up his hat, put it back on and adjusted it by tipping the brim. His hand softly landed on Moomintroll's shoulder. The Troll looked at his friend appearing so calm and serious. Caring. A wave of regret flushed over Moomin as he shifted his gaze to the ground and mumbled: “I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you!”  
“Of course not. It's alright,” said Snufkin and reassuringly tapped Moomin's shoulder a few times, then smiled: “It's only a dream, remember?”  
“What should I do?”  
“Time will arrange things. Don't you worry,” answered Snufkin and got up from the ground, as if preparing to leave. 

“Our friendship is a sweet torture, you know?” said Moomin bitterly, still looking down. “Watching you go is never easy. Wishing you stay is selfish.” Slowly, the Troll lifted his head and stared at Snufkin's back. “Either way, it hurts.” The latter stood still, looking at the horizon.  
“I know, Moomin. I know,” said the Mumrik to the void, than turned to the Troll and added: “I am sorry! I appreciate you being my friend... and giving me space.”

A feeble smile appeared on Moomin's face when Snufkin stretched his arm to help him get up.  
“I really have to get out of here,” said the Troll, heavily rising to his feet.  
“I have an idea!” chuckled Snufkin, then quickly added: “You remember the Sleeping Beauty?”  
Confusion written on his face, Moomin stared at Snufkin for a second before bursting with laughter. “No, you can't possibly mean that!”  
“Why not? You're sleeping, right?” giggled the Mumrik. Then suddenly he stopped laughing, took both Moomin's paw in his hands and added with a distinct seriousness, gently stroking Moomin's paw with his fingers: “And a beauty... Wanna try?”

It was clear that his friend was not joking anymore. Snufkin's face took that serious and slightly dreamy expression that Moomin could die for. After noticing that he stopped breathing for a few seconds, Moomin took a sharp breath in and exhaled with a sigh, slowly nodding his head. Nothing mattered at that moment, except this painfully familiar face, these lips curling into a barely noticeable smile...

It's only a dream after all. All sorts of impossible things happen in dreams. Often we don't even remember, or don't want to remember the contents. But there was one thing Moomin felt quite sure about: he would rather not forget this one. 

“And then, you'll vanish again,” murmured the Troll with another sigh, staring at Snufkin as if he wanted to engrave every tiny feature of his already very familiar face into his memory. Preferably forever.  
“Too much talking and thinking. Enjoy the “now,” gently whispered the Mumrik as he closed his eyes, made a decisive movement forward and pressed his lips to Moomin's snout, wrapping his arms around the Troll's shoulders. Feeling dizzy all of a sudden, Moomin made a tiny step backwards, struggling to keep his balance. His paws slid on the green ragged fabric to find one another behind his friend's back. The Troll closed his eyes, immersing himself into this touchy-feely experience of bliss: the burning of the Snufkin's kiss, the heat of his body being so close, the surprising strength of his arms holding him firmly.  
“Love you,” whispered Moomin softly, with a lingering intonation of a question.  
“Love you,” echoed Snufkin's voice.

When the Troll opened his eyes, everything around went black, and this didn't surprise nor frighten him this time, but it did make his heart ache profoundly.  
He inhaled with a gasp, closed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to get back to reality. When he opened his eyes again, Moomin discovered that he was sitting on the same log as before, but the witch was nowhere around. Her precious toad disappeared, too. The Troll rubbed his eyes, feeling dizzy, and carefully stood up. The only sounds he could hear were the trickling of a small stream behind the bushes and pitter-patter of raindrops gently landing on the leaves. Unsteadily, Moomin made a few steps before starting to run frantically. Feet slipping in the mud, he was heading back to their camp. 

* * *

Snufkin tried to get up from the ground a few more times before he finally settled to rest for a few minutes. His leg felt filled with lead and completely unresponsive. The tiny raindrops kept swirling in the air and landing on his hands and everywhere else, bringing with them the sense of cold and despair.  
Trying to recall any of his past experiences that could've been similar to what he was going through, the Mumrik quickly came to a conclusion that this one was certainly one of a kind.  
He leaned to a tree trunk for support and took a deep breath, trying to slow down the swirling thoughts and chase the frightful images crowding his mind.  
How reckless! They should've gone back after that Moomin's encounter. Moomin... Where was he now? What was he doing? Thinking of his friend, Snufkin couldn't help but admire his courage. He didn't hesitate to protect him in the face of a scary unknown. Clarity of thoughts seemed to escape him - his mind was relentlessly going back to the Troll, playing his selfless sacrifice scene over and over in an endless loop until Snufkin grabbed his head in his hands and bent over, starting to feel sick and dizzy from this all. 

“He is brave and kind. Who knew?” heard Snufkin and quickly turned his head in the direction of the voice. The witch was sitting on the wet grass beside him, holding the toad and stroking her back with lazy movements. 

The Mumrik compulsively gripped at his leg, hoping to find it miraculously returning to its normal state. Alas! It felt almost as numb as before. Without saying a word, he bent one knee and dragged the numb leg up with his hands to bring the other, unresponsive knee to the same bent position, then hugged his legs and pressed his head to the top of the knees.  
Stillness. Rolling into a ball seemed to be the perfect and the only possible choice for this occasion. 

“You know, I'm not _that_ evil,” said Llort with a sigh. “You might not believe me, but I like you. And I am a lot like you, too!” she chuckled, then continued seriously: “Being in your bubble, enjoying your own company - it's so very near and dear to me. Until one day, I discovered that my bubble became impermeable. I simply couldn't get out of it anymore.” 

Snufkin stayed completely immobile, except a barely visible movement of his back accompanying each breath. Why would he even care about her bubble? Why wouldn't she leave them alone?  
“I will show you things,” with these words, Llort stood up and slowly approached the Mumrik. He lifted his head and pierced her with his eyes. “Important things. Not always pleasant – for this I'm sorry...”  
“Where is Moomintroll?” he asked in a hoarse voice.  
“Oh, don't worry, he is just fine! You'll see him very soon. Even... now!”  
And she firmly pressed her tiny hand to Snufkin's front.

Darkness. Stillness. Not a thought, not a breath. Just a sensation of weightlessness and complete freedom. Freedom from everything, good or bad, sad or cheerful. Freedom from pain and from happiness. A place to stay forever and regret nothing... because nothing matters.  
Then a force dragged him down, strong and unapologetic, until he felt a hard surface beneath him. Sand and stones. 

Snufkin sat up and looked around. The place looked unfamiliar: no trees, very little grass. Unwelcoming and dry. He tried to get up, and, to his delight, managed to do it easily. Almost cheerfully, Snufkin stomped his feet and jumped up and down a few times, lifting a cloud of dust. This all was not real, of course. He knew it! But everything around seemed deceptively tangible, and it was impossible not to fall for it. Suddenly, he spotted a familiar white shape down the hill. Moomintroll? He ran down as fast as he could, slipping on pebbles a few times. 

Moomin was lying on the ground, unconscious. Snufkin landed in the dust beside him and pressed his hand to his friend's chest. Soft and warm fur beneath his fingers, rising and falling of Moomin's chest were strikingly real.

“Moomin, wake up! It's me, Snufkin!” His voice strangely echoed in this space. The Troll's ears twitched, he sighed and moaned quietly. A strange mix of worry and delight filled Snufkin's heart and lifted the corners of his lips into a dreamy smile. “Moomin, are you alright?” 

The Troll opened his eyes, sat up heavily and rubbed his face. Snufkin's hand slipped from his chest, a bit slower than one would expect, taking time to enjoy gliding on the soft fur.

Confusion written on his face, Moomin looked around. “I'm fine,” croaked Moomin. He rubbed his eyes again and stared with an unreadable expression at Snufkin sitting beside him. 

“Snufkin... What if...” he stopped and scratched his right ear, looking down. Snufkin could swear that he noticed a light pink tint spreading all over his face.  
“Yes? What is it?” asked the Mumrik calmly, looking at his friend with a patient expectation.  
“I really hate toads!” proclaimed Moomin passionately, and then quickly whispered: “And love... someone.” He quickly picked up a nearby rock (quite ordinary at that) and started to examine it intently, turning it in his hand, eyes glued to its rough surface as if it was the most unusual thing on the planet. 

Snufkin's lips formed a barely visible smile before he slowly changed his position on the ground, turning to the side. Now, he was sitting by the Troll' side, looking into the distance. He didn't like to pry, but this unexpected confession certainly picked his interest and created a swarm of conflicting emotions. He couldn't deny that he longed to learn more.

“So, what's about _them_?” he asked warmly.  
“About toads?” mumbled Moomin.

The Mumrik suddenly started to laugh. Is it because talking about toads seemed so out of place and hilarious or because he felt weirdly anxious? Moomin started to nervously giggle himself.

“To hell with toads!” shouted Moomin with a wide energetic sweep of the arm, laughing even harder. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and blurted out: “I don't want to talk about toads.”

The Mumrik found his usual comfort in gazing into the distance. Wherever this conversation could lead, he reminded himself that this wasn't real. Probably, the only thing he needed to do was to sit still and wait, and of all people on earth, he was proficient at that. 

“What is this place, anyway?” asked Moomin looking around. He casually sneaked his paw closer to Snufkin and touched the green fabric of his clothes – a gesture that couldn't escape the Mumrik's attention, even though Moomintroll was clearly trying to make it discreet.  
“It's not that important,” answered Snufkin.  
_Why would he talk about this place? It is of no interest whatsoever. The most uninteresting place of all!_

“What is important, then?” asked Moomin in a dull voice.  
Slowly, the Mumrik turned his head to Moomin and uttered solemnly:  
“Whatever you feel is important.”  
_What is it that you feel?.. That's important! It truly is. Just tell me... You are the one who usually talks, remember?_

Moomintroll sighed and picked up a smooth marble stone from the ground.  
_Interested in rocks today, eh?_

“But it's not real, is it?” mumbled Moomin, carefully examining the stone. He brought it close to his face, squinted the eyes and seemed to ignore everything except it.  
“And how do you know what is real and what's not?” asked Snufkin with a barely visible smile, and placed his hand on top of the other Moomin's paw. 

He noticed (not without a mischievous satisfaction) how his friend shivered slightly, then froze. Snufkin suddenly felt tired of riddles and meaningless teetering around the subject. Tired of swimming against the current. What if he let the current carry him for a little while? Putting feelings into words might be hard, but a gesture is worth thousand words sometimes. Just a little game – it's a dream, after all! Once again, the softness of Moomin's fur under his palm riveted his attention and made him hyper-aware of the sensations in his hand.

What happened next took Snufkin by surprise.  
Moomintroll cringed, threw the stone away, freed his paw from under his hand and quickly got up. He made a step towards Snufkin, looming above him suffocatingly close.  
_Interesting. What's next?_

The Mumrik didn't move an inch. Mesmerized by this change of attitude, he kept looking at his friend, waiting.  
_Why are his eyes so incredibly blue? Is it for me to drown in them properly?_

The Troll decisively grabbed Snufkin by the collar of his coat so that his hat fell to the ground. _Uncomfortable. Weirdly exciting. Hard to breathe and to think. I must have deserved it. You are not being yourself, Moomin. But I'm here for you. Just tell me..._  
“Now, tell me, how do I get OUT...”  
“OUT... Out... out...” heard Snufkin the dying echo before everything sank into blackness.  
_Out of..?_

[](https://ibb.co/pKmMfSy)

The darkness lasted for mere seconds. Then, unusually bright light filled the space, as if everything got lit by a long blinding lightning flash. Little by little, the details of the environment started to emerge.  
They were lying on the soft grass in a summer golden field in a blissful shadow of a large oak tree. The hot air was buzzing with the usual midsummer busyness of little creatures – birds, insects – going about their daily routines. The bright blue light shone between fluffy clouds slowly floating across the sky. Some of those clouds had peculiar shapes. 

Moomin was talking and gesticulating lively with his arms, but Snufkin couldn't catch the exact words, until...  
“...out! That's what I said. Because, you see, one should protect his personal space, is that right?”  
“Yes... Of course.”  
“I knew you'd understand. Oh, look, that one is just like Little My!” cheerfully exclaimed Moomintroll, pointing to a small white cloud moving a bit faster than the others. “This is her face with a grin, and her hair, and that dress... what might she be holding in her hands?”  
“An axe?” played along Snufkin, with a giggle. He inhaled the fragrant summer air and casually run his hand over the cool velvety grass, amazed once again at the stunning richness of all the sensations available to him.  
“Yeah, right!” Moomin chuckled, too. He turned on his side to face Snufkin and propped his head with a folded arm. Then he sighed, joy melting away from his blue eyes.  
“And those grey clouds over there remind me huge mounds of snow...” he added with a lazy feeble paw gesture. “Cold, heavy and... deadly.” And he rolled back to his back, in silence.  
_Sweet melancholy. What to say?_  
“It's only midsummer, Moomin. Chase those mounds away, will you?” said Snufkin warmly.  
The Troll energetically sat up and brushed off a beetle from his shoulder. “Yeah... Could you play for me, please?”  
Without saying a word, Snufkin took out his harmonica, ran his fingers over its metal side and brought it to his lips. Then, he closed his eyes, and a bittersweet melody started to flow over the field. The melody without words was telling a beautiful and vaguely sad story... 

Suddenly, Snufkin felt a gust of cold air and shivered. He opened his eyes and couldn't believe the drastic change around: he was sitting alone near their bridge, playing harmonica. Occasional patches of snow were scattered nearby. Heavy dark-grey clouds were moving fast overhead. 

He noticed a small figure running in his direction. Little My. She wore an odd black dress, and Snufkin's heart sank, filled with a vague and heavy anticipation.  
_Is it still a dream?_  
“Snufkin!” she cried from afar. The Mumrik jumped to his feet and ran towards her. When they approached each other, Snufkin noticed how very pale her face looked, how strangely red her eyes were. Disheveled hair...  
“What happened?”  
“You're so late! Mamma... She is waiting for you,” she said with a grave tone of voice, catching her breath.  
“Where is Moomintroll?”  
“Let's go...Please!”

_Did she just say “please”? This must be serious._

Inside the house, everything was sparkling clean, dark and strangely orderly. Dark curtains were closed, and the room was dimly lit with several dying candles placed on the table. Snufkin took off his hat and looked at Little My who ran to the kitchen promptly. In a moment, she and Moominmamma entered the room. 

Mamma looked weirdly smaller than usual. Much older. Her snout seemed longer and thinner, and she wore a dark apron which true color was a mystery in this light.  
Without saying a word, Moominmamma invited Snufkin to sit at the table with a tired gesture, then she slowly sat down herself and mindfully smoothed out the wrinkles on her apron. Little My quickly climbed on a chair near Snufkin. Her little face was unusually serious, and she was clearly avoiding the eye contact with Snufkin, preferring to look at the table.

“Moomintroll...” said Mamma, and her voice broke. She looked down, retrieved a handkerchief from her apron's pocket and pressed it to the corners of her eyes. “He's not with us anymore, I'm afraid.” The last part was barely audible.  
“What?” sighed Snufkin, looking intently at Mamma. He grasped the table edge and leaned over as if to see her better.  
“Moomin died this winter,” said Little My seriously, then added in an unusually soft voice: “I'm sorry.”  
“No...” gasped Snufkin. “This can't be true!”

He jumped from his place and rushed to the wall, dragged the curtain open and pushed the window as if he wanted to jump out and run away. A gust of moist cool air entered the room and made the candles flicker. The wind kept moving the curtains making them produce a dull flapping sound. Everything was impossibly tangible. 

Mamma was slouching at the table, supporting her head with the paw. Little My stayed immobile, silently watching Snufkin.

“This can't be happening! It's only a nightmare, I know it!” shouted the Mumrik. “I'll wake up, and everything will be normal again, I promise!” Then all of a sudden, he looked at his hand as if seeing it for the first time, raised his arm and violently hit the wall with a groan. The intense sharp pain overtaking his hand ended up to be very real, too. Snufkin grabbed his painfully pulsating hand with the other one, pressed his back to the wall and slowly slid down to the floor.

“How...” mumbled he, staring at the floor.  
“We found him outside, the first day of spring. Nobody knows how he died,” said Little My slowly.

A thick silence reigned in the room for a few minutes. 

_This can't be happening, this is not happening... Think._

“Harmonica!” exclaimed Snufkin. Moominmamma flinched. “I will play it, and everything will be alright again! That's how I got here in the first place.”  
And, with a fidgety movement, he began to rifle through the pockets searching for his mouth organ. Here. He could feel its cool and soothing metal surface. _It will be over soon._

Snufkin brought it to his lips and produced a few pitiful notes.  
Lightning fast, Little My slipped from her chair and ran over to her brother.  
“Don't you dare!” she shouted angrily firmly grabbing his hand, and forcefully snatched his harmonica. “Show some respect, darn it!” Then, she flied up the stairs, disappearing in the darkness of the upper floor. 

“Give it back!” cried Snufkin, jumping to his feet and rushing after her. “You don't understand!”

But Little My closed the door behind her and locked it with a loud “click”. No amount of knocking, menacing or pleading persuaded her to open that door. 

With a heavy sigh, Snufkin flopped on the floor. Eyes welled up with tears, he bent the knees, dropped his head into his hands and began to weep.  
It was one of those strange and dark moment when one fully realizes that he's dreaming, but the dream is so heavy - it's simply impossible to shake it off or to hold tears. And he let them out, let it all out. Tears were running down his cheeks and dripping on the wooden floor. Through his wailing and sobs, he could hear a few squeaks of the stairs under someone's soft footsteps. Moominmamma. 

_She must be hating me. And she's right._

She slowly approached the Mumrik and quietly sat down beside him on the floor. The next thing Snufkin felt was her paw landing softly on his back. A reassuringly warm and kind gesture.  
“I'm so sorry, Moominmamma!” said Snufkin in a trembling voice without lifting his head. “I let him down! I let you all down.”  
“No, you didn't,” said Mamma softly.  
“But if only I stayed... Or let him go with me, like he always wanted... How selfish I am!”  
“It's not true. You are being yourself, and very good at that. You always inspired Moomin to be himself, too. To be the best he could be.”

Snufkin lifted his face, and his eyes met hers. In those eyes, there was nothing but love, grief and compassion. Very slowly, Moominmamma lifted her paw, soft as a feather, and gently wiped tears from his cheeks. 

“Would you help me open the windows? It's so dark in here,” she said with a tired smile, then got up, retrieved a key from one of the pockets of her apron. With an elegant gesture, she opened the door and entered the room where Little My was hiding. After a short muffled dialogue in the room, Snufkin overheard the girl exclaim “Fine!”. 

Snufkin ran downstairs and opened all the windows, letting the spring sunlight and the fresh air in. The room started to look cozy and almost cheerful, with the warm sunlight spots finding their places on the walls. Moominmamma went downstairs and approached Snufkin.

“Thank you!” She inhaled and closed her eyes for a moment. “It's better like this, isn't it?”  
He could only nod.  
“So quiet... Would you do me a favour, Snufkin?” said Mamma and stretched out her arm. On her palm, he saw something glitter. His harmonica. “Please, play his favorite song for me.”

Hesitant, the Mumrik stretched out his arm to take the instrument. He lifted his gaze to look at Moominmamma's face, silent question in his eyes. She smiled and nodded. 

In the corner of his eye, Snufkin noticed that Little My went down to the middle of the staircase and sat quietly on a step, watching his every move. 

He closed his eyes and brought the harmonica to his lips, prepared to lose himself in his music like he often did. A soft melody filled the room. Shy and melancholic at first, it picked up volume and strength quickly. Swirling in the room for a while, like a bird, it found its way out, rose up energetically and flew freely to the places and times filled with happiness and love... 

When Snufkin finished playing and opened his eyes, he flinched involuntarily when he saw no other than Moomin sitting beside him in the shadow of the old oak tree.  
“You look like you've seen a ghost,” chuckled Moomintroll, then added seriously: “Your music is so beautiful.”  
“Moomin, I...” said Snufkin and looked down, nervously fiddling with his harmonica before hiding it into the pocket. “I'm so happy to see you!” 

With these words, he made a subtle movement forward, as if he suddenly wanted to get closer to his friend, but quickly stopped himself from approaching. 

“What?!” chuckled Moomin, smiling broadly. The tuft of his tail, white as snow, jumped in the grass a few times. “You've never said that before...”  
“I should have... I'm saying it now. It's not _too late_ , is it?” smiled Snufkin. With his eyes closed, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the Moomin's snout. 

_He is soft, there is no denying it._

When the Mumrik opened his eyes, Moomintroll was staring at him with his eyes wide open. White pointy ears twitched a couple of times, and he was clearly blushing under that short and soft fur on his face.

“Snufkin...” exhaled Moomin, “what should I think of all this?”  
The Mumrik couldn't help but giggle: “You'll be able to figure it out!”  
“OUT... Out... out...” responded the echo harshly. 

Sand and stones. Moomin was holding him by his collar. Drastic contrast. _Are you so strong in real life, too? What's next?_

Moomintroll closed his eyes and took a deep breath, keeping his grip as firm as before. The collar dag into his neck, making breathing and talking a difficult task.

_This is getting too much too quickly._

“Moomin, please...” whispered Snufkin, “you're hurting me.”  
“How do I get out?!” shouted the Troll with his eyes still closed. Tears started to roll down his face when he landed on his knees and finally let his paw release Snufkin. 

Sitting on the ground, Moomintroll covered his eyes with his paws while his body started to lightly shake.  
“I wish I knew!” thought Snufkin. Instead, he said calmly: “I'm afraid there is no easy way out, Moomin.” 

Snufkin picked up his hat, put it back on and adjusted it by tipping the brim. His hand softly landed on Moomintroll's shoulder. The Troll looked at his friend and shifted his gaze to the ground. He mumbled: “I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you!”  
“Of course not. It's alright,” said Snufkin and reassuringly tapped Moomin's shoulder a few times, then smiled: “It's only a dream, remember?”  
“What should I do?”  
“Time will arrange things. Don't you worry,” answered Snufkin and got up from the ground. 

“Our friendship is a sweet torture, you know,” said Moomin bitterly, still looking down. “Watching you go is never easy. Wishing you stay is selfish.” Slowly, the Troll lifted his head and stared at Snufkin's back. “Either way, it hurts.”

The Troll's words were landing heavily. Like rocks thrown into the water, they disturbed the surface and sank into the depth. This wasn't a great revelation for Snufkin, of course, - he knew it all along. But this knowing hasn't made it any easier to hear this confession, simple and honest. 

“I know, Moomin. I know,” sighed the Mumrik, than turned to the Troll and added: “I am sorry! I appreciate you being my friend... and giving me space.”

A feeble smile appeared on Moomin's face when Snufkin stretched his arm to help him get up.  
“I really have to get out of here,” said the Troll with a shy smile, heavily rising to his feet.  
“I have an idea!” chuckled Snufkin, then quickly added: “You remember the Sleeping Beauty?”  
Confusion written on his face, Moomin stared at Snufkin for a second before bursting with laughter. “No, you can't possibly mean that!”  
“Why not? You're sleeping, right?” giggled the Mumrik. Then suddenly he stopped laughing, took both Moomin's paws in his hands, and added with a distinct seriousness, gently stroking the white paws with his fingers: “And a beauty... Wanna try?”

_Say yes._

Moomin froze for a few moments, then took a sharp breath in and exhaled with a sigh, slowly nodding his head. Nothing mattered at that moment for Snufkin, except this painfully familiar face, these lips forming a barely noticeable smile...

It's only a dream after all. All sorts of impossible things happen in dreams. Often we don't remember, or definitely prefer not to remember the contents. But there was one thing Snufkin felt quite sure about now: he would rather not forget this one. 

“And then, you'll vanish again,” murmured the Troll with another sigh, staring at Snufkin as if he wanted to engrave every tiny feature of his already very familiar face into his memory.  
“Too much talking and thinking. Enjoy the “now,” gently whispered the Mumrik as he closed his eyes, made a decisive movement forward and pressed his lips to Moomin's snout, wrapping his arms around the Troll's shoulders. Moomin made a tiny step backwards, struggling to keep his balance. His paws slid on the green ragged fabric to find one another behind his friend's back. Snufkin allowed himself to fully dissolve into this touchy-feely experience of bliss: the softness of Moomin's fur, the heat of his body being so close, the strength of his arms holding him firmly.  
“Love you,” whispered Moomin softly, with a slight intonation of a question.  
“Love you,” smiled Snufkin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is yet another chapter by this who-gave-this-person-English-keyboard author.  
> Thank you for your time! As always, sorry for the awkwardness of the language. Feel free to throw your stone - I love constructive feedback. Or any feedback, for that matter. :)
> 
> I emotionally blackmailed Snufkin, and I almost regret it.  
> Snufkin went through the five stages of grief in, like, 20 minutes. :) It's a dream, after all. 
> 
> I wish you a wonderful day, dear Reader. Be well.  
> Sincerely yours. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, dear friend! I hope it was worthwhile. 
> 
> Once again, I'm sorry for the possible weirdness of language, I'm not a native. 
> 
> Let's chat in the comment section! =) I find it difficult to connect to fandom for some reason, so I really appreciate fellow fan interaction here. It's like a forum in 90s, if you know what I mean.  
> Yes, I'm that old. 
> 
> Have a great day!


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